


Methos Chronicles Part 4

by Helis_von_Askir



Series: Methos Chronicles [4]
Category: Highlander - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:27:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22104043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helis_von_Askir/pseuds/Helis_von_Askir
Summary: Murron gets on with her career and Methos is looking for a good time.
Relationships: Methos/Original Character
Series: Methos Chronicles [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1350058
Kudos: 10





	Methos Chronicles Part 4

**Author's Note:**

> I re-wrote this thing a few times, but this is as good as it's going to get. I'm not really happy with it, but oh, well, nobody's perfect. I hope you'll still enjoy it.  
> I don't own Highlander, I'm just borrowing them for a bit.

Iraq, Present Day

The sun went down just as Murron got under the hot spray of the field shower. The only convenience they had here at the dig site. After digging in the sand and dirt all day long it felt heavenly, even if she was only allowed five minutes per day.

Afterwards, with her hair still wet, she headed to the mess tent. As heavenly as the shower was, the food was not. It was all canned food shipped in form the US as if the head of the dig, Professor Boris Long didn’t believe the non-native members could not stomach real Iraqi food. By now Murron was willing eat pretty much everything as long as it didn’t come out of a can.

She got her ration and sat down at one of the empty tables. Three months and they all sat with their groups still. It was like high school. The Iraqi sat at one table and the westerner at another one. Europeans, Americans and a few from South America. Of course that were only the archaeologists and students. The common workers had their own tent and probably better food.

Iraqi history was not exactly Murron’s area of expertise, Egyptian was, but Professor Long, or Dr. Doom, was they all called him behind his back, had been looking to fill all the spots to get more money and Murron could use the credentials, as it was still close enough to her field to be worth the effort. Besides, she had never been in Iraq before. And so far it was great, aside from the food. Egypt had been as far as he had gotten so far.

The dig went pretty much as one could expect. A lot of back-breaking work and not much to show for it. It wasn’t like an Indiana Jones move where you dug one hole and found a huge treasure chest at the bottom of it. It was slow work but piece by little pottery piece they put together a picture of the people that had once lived here.

When Murron returned to her tent that night she found a message from Alessandro waiting for her. He had sent it not two minutes ago. The man had a sense of timing she had to give him that. She had thought about contacting him a few times but always stopped herself. She was just a mortal, she didn’t want to annoy him by nagging him with questions, of which she had a million, and risk him disappearing on her. But now he was the one to contact her, that was something completely different. At least that was what she told herself.

The text was pretty short. _How is the dig?_

Murron was surprised by that. She hadn’t told him what she was doing, or going to do at their last meeting, not having known herself. Obviously, he cared enough about her to find out himself. The little flutter inside her she manly ignored. He wasn’t interested in her like that, she told herself.

_How do you know where I am?_ She wrote back.

_I know because I’m very old and wise. And you didn’t answer my question, how is the dig going?_ He wrote back almost immediately.

_Slow._ She replied.

_Want me to tell you where they hid the good stuff?_ Alessandro asked. It took Murron a moment to process the question and what it implied. He had been here hundreds of years ago. If he told the truth. She never quite knew with him. After all, his _condition_ forced him to be the consummate liar. But of course her curiosity got the better of her. _Do tell_. She typed.

Alessandro replied with a set of exact instructions Murron wrote down on a piece of paper. She would have to wait for her lunch break tomorrow to check it out. Thankfully they were allowed to wander around a bit. Nothing out there except the desert within walking distance. When she had copied the instructions, she wrote back to him. _Do I even want to know how you know all that?_

Again the reply came promptly and it was what she had been expecting. _Probably not._

The next day, Murron went to the remains of the temple Alessandro had described to her. In fact it was the only building they had found were the walls were still somewhat standing. Three inches weren’t much but better than the rest.

She found the relief he had mentioned to her easily enough. Even after all this time it was still beautiful. It was four by four feet in the middle of the floor. She went to the north corner and dug around a bit until she found the mechanism to open the trapdoor. The relief lifted up about an inch and Murron managed to lift it open after a moment.

She turned the flashlight on and shone it into the opening. And what she saw took her breath away. Alessandro had not been exaggerating.

Murron’s _find_ was the jackpot. Dr. Long as beside himself. He had never imagined to make such a discovery. Most of it would end up in Iraqi museums or the private collections of members of the government or rich collectors the world over. Better than letting them rot in the ground, Murron thought. Dr. Long too was very practical on the matter.

“How did you know where to look?” Achmed Yuson asked when she came out of the mess tent a day later. He was Dr. Long’s right hand and a rather unsympathetic man, a glowing member of the government party and a devout Muslim. Murron had nothing against Muslim, but unfortunately Achmed had something against her and unbelievers in general. That so many of them were at the dig was something he constantly criticized.

Murron shrugged. “I just got lucky, I guess.”

“No one gets that lucky. You have to have some information beforehand. I want to know from whom.” Achmed demanded.

He was right, of course, but she couldn’t tell him that, nor did she want to. “I guess then I’m the exception to that rule of yours. Just be happy that it was found. You’re got work for years to come.”

“But you’ll get the credit.” It sounded like an accusation, like it was a crime to have found these priceless artifacts, because she was not from this country.

“I did find it.” Murron reminded him. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m tried and would like to retire.”

“You’re a fraud.” Achmed accused angry.

“What?” Murron asked surprised. Where had that come from?

“You only got the job because of your looks. Because you will look good in the western press where women are shamelessly portrait like whores, not because of your prior work.” Achmed sneered at her. “No decent woman would run around unsupervised by a man.”

“Well, I guess I just proved my worth despite of that.” Sure she had gotten help from Alessandro finding the hidden chamber but she had been doing work here and her credentials were all earned. And who knew if it would have been found by someone else? Besides, everyone got some help now and then. Why wouldn’t they or she? She would not let that jerk ruin her find for her. With her head held high she walked to her tent.

_Found it_. Murron wrote after a quick shower. She was always looking forward to her chats with Alessandro. She could tell him anything, he never judged her. Oh, he gave his opinion back without mincing words but he never judged her. She was aware that she knew next to nothing about him, not really. Maybe that was part of the allure, the mystery surrounding him.

_And is your boss happy?_ Alessandro wrote back.

_Ecstatic. So are all the others. Except for that dick Achmed_. Murron told him.

_Jealously is such an ugly thing. He’ll get over it. Many Arabs are still very old fashioned._ Alessandro pointed out.

_Not only Arabs_. Murron replied.

_Ouch. What’s next on the agenda?_ Alessandro wanted to know.

_Putting together an inventory and put everything into categories, all these exciting things_. Murron typed.

_Well, I’m off to a few days on the beach. Have fun with your inventory._ Alessandro wrote back.

_I hate you._ Murron rolled her eyes. He was a stinking rich, immortal artist. What was there to like?

_I know you do._ Alessandro even added a smiley.

Murron chuckled and typed in a good night. She would have liked to continue to chat but it was late and she was tired.

There was a lot more n the chamber than Murron had expected. And most of it was still in pristine condition, having been in there for about two thousand years. While they were taking photos and labeling everything, the first member of the political brass showed up. This was something they could show off. Something to feel good about because they had such a long and rich history.

Murron didn’t really care. Iraqi politics was nothing she was overly familiar with. Nor did she think it would be a good idea to get involved. This wasn’t the US or Europe. Criticizing the governing party could land you in prison for months without ever seeing a judge.

Achmed Yusan was busy crawling up all their asses and thankfully left her alone. But the very next day every non-Iraqi was given a handshake and a ticket back to their respective home country.

Understandable, they wanted all the fame for themselves. Achmed couldn’t stop gloating while they packed and left the dig site. It had probably been his idea in the first place.

Murron was disappointed but not really surprised. And there was nothing she could do about it anyway. At least Dr. Long had given them all a glowing letter of recommendation. It would help her to get a new job soon, hopefully.

She had been thinking about what to do once the dig was over for a while now. She wanted a steady job for a change. Ever since the museum back in Boston had burned down, she had been kind of drifting around. First the exhibit and then this dig.

The only constant was Alessandro and what did that say about her and the state of the life? A stranger who couldn’t die and had burned down her work place in a tremendous light show. Bu he was also nice, and good-looking, if she was honest with herself. Maybe she would visit him for a bit. Pick his brains, just for fun.

_Who was she kidding?_ She thought a moment later. She didn’t even know where he lived. Italy was not exactly small. Hell, even Rome was damned big.

Internet chats were the best she could hope for. She had to move on. Get a life of her own.

A week later

People always said Paris in spring was the most beautiful city in the world. Murron thought that Paris in summer looked pretty good too. She stood on the balcony of her hotel room and looked down on the Seine with the sun sinking behind Notre Dame in the near distance.

There was an entire week of historical conferences ahead of her. She wouldn’t get a lot of sunlight then, so she had to use her chance now.

If everything went well, she even had a chance at a job at the Museé Nationale. Her old professor had arranged the job interview for her at the end of the week. Things were definitely looking up. The Iraqi government had even given her credit for the find at the dig-site. Achmed was probably pretty pissed about that. And it was probably the reason she had gotten the interview in the first place, along with the professor’s efforts.

When the sun was gone, Murron went back inside and took a long shower. She was tired from the long flight. Tomorrow was an important day. She didn’t want to screw up her lecture. She had worked on the thing for the last three days to get it perfect.

Walking up the steps to the lecture hall, Murron looked around. The place was packed. And she was not nervous, not at all. The knot in her stomach was from breakfast, simple as that.

She rounded a corner and nearly collided with a tall, dark-haired man who was hurrying in the other direction.

“I’m so sorry, Miss.” He said and steadied her.

“It’s fine, no harm done.” Murron assured him and extracted herself from his grip when he did not let her go immediately.

“I’m Duncan MacLeod.” He introduced himself. “You here for the lecture on Semitic history?”

Murron smiled a bit coldly. “I’m the one giving it. I just hope no one’s going to fall asleep on me.”

“I seriously doubt that is going to happen, Dr…” MacLeod looked at her expectantly.

“Cross, Murron Cross. And I have to hurry if I don’t want to be late for my own lecture.” She said and stepped around him.

“Oh, yes, of course.” MacLeod smiled embarrassed. “Nice meeting you.”

“Same here.” Murron replied and walked away. As nice as it was to have a man looking at her appreciatively, she preferred if they did it because of her work not her looks. This MacLeod had definitely been interested in her looks not her work.

Three days later

The last lecture was over and after three days of near non-stop history even Murron was glad that it was finally over and done. It had been incredible interesting but she was looking forward to returning to the real world now.

“Dr. Cross, a moment, please.” Dr. Everett Bauer hurried to catch up with her.

Murron suppressed the need to roll her eyes. Bauer had been a TA when she had been in college and had tried to get a date with her for her entire time there. She had always said no. And even is she would have been interested, which she had not been, it wouldn’t have been right. Dating teacher or TA’s was a good way to ruin one’s reputation before one had a chance to get one.

“Dr. Bauer, what can I do for you?” she asked with forced politeness.

“I’ve heard you have applied for the position at the Museé Nationale.” Bauer said.

“So, what? I applied to several places.” Murron replied calmly.

“Then…could you withdraw yours?” Bauer asked completely serious.

“Excuse me? Why would I do that?” Murron wanted to know, becoming angry. The nerve of that man.

“I applied too and my chance would be a lot better if you wouldn’t.” Bauer explained like it was the most reasonable thing in the world to demand that of her and that she would comply.

Murron had a hard time staying calm with what she was hearing. Bauer always had a few screws loose, as far as she was concerned, but he was good at his job, so she didn’t hold it against him, but this was a new low. “No, Dr. Bauer, I will not withdraw my application. Good day.” She stormed off before she said something she would regret.

Bauer really had a way of ruining her day, always had. The anger she felt was slow to dissipate. Murron took a long shower and dressed in her new dress she had bought for the gala tonight. Every speaker at the conference had been invited. She was tempted to skip it, but it was important to rub elbows with the people there, therefore she would have to bear it, no matter how little she wanted to go, thanks to Dr. Everett Bauer.

Besides, Robert Queen was a rich old man who fancied himself a philanthropist and liked to surround himself with artists, scholars and scientists. A right word from him could make or break careers. And artists, scholars and scientists came in troves because of that. And because he had money to spare and the more one flattered him, the more money one could get. Or if one looked the part. Otherwise Murron would never wear a dress like this. A long, black skirt with a slit up to the top of her upper thigh, bare shoulders and low cleavage. Queen liked pretty woman in pretty dresses almost as much as showing off his artists, scholars and scientists. Murron wasn’t proud of it but she also was not too proud to use her assets to get what she wanted.

And she wanted the job at the Museé Nationale and Queen had the influence to get it for her. Even more than her old professor. She wasn’t going to lose out to Bauer, not if all she had to do was dangler her breasts in front of an old horny man. People would talk anyway, so why not use it to her advantage? As long as she could back it up with her professional accomplishments, and she could.

The gala was being held in Queen’s mansion at the outskirts of Paris. A castle, really, that had survived the Revolution with good graces. Murron exited the cam and ascended the steps to the front door where a servant took her coat.

The rooms inside were even more impressive. Murron came face to face with several priceless paintings before she even reached the ball room. Being surrounded by millions of dollars was kind of intimidating but she was here to get as good a shot at the job she wanted as she could get at one of the best universities in the world.

“Trying not to freeze in awe, Dr. Cross?” Alessandro Letta asked from behind her.

Murron spun around surprised and Alessandro handed her a Cross of white wine which she took without thinking.

“Well, it is a lot of money hanging on these walls.” She said trying to cover her surprise at finding him here. The wine helped.

“Yes, it is. I’m planning on being worth just as much one day.” Alessandro told her in a conspiratorial tone. “Robert likes to spend money on beautiful things but I believe you already know that.” He looked her over, but thankfully didn’t stop at her cleavage too long.

Murron looked a bit embarrassed. “Yes, I do. Girl’s got to eat. And I have the credentials to get the job I’m after, but I want to better my chances if I can.”

Alessandro smiled. “That’s my girl. And with that dress you will improve those chances. I’ll introduce you to Robert if you want. Why leave that to chance?”

“Thank you.” Murron replied. A minute was all she needed, she knew she had what it took for the job. That she was as well qualified as all the other applicants especially Everett Bauer. It shouldn’t matter that she was a woman, but it did, many still thought women were not up their male competition, so she would use that fact to her advantage.

“Want another one?” Alessandro offered, indicating her empty wine Cross. When had she emptied it?

“Please, but that’s the last one. I need to stay sober for this.” Murron gave him her Cross.

“Really? Most prefer to be drunk for it.” Alessandro pointed out.

Murron waited by the Rembrandt for Alessandro to return when the dark-haired man form the conference, the one who nearly had run her over stepped into the room.

“What a lovely surprise, meeting you here, Dr. Cross.” He said as he approached her.

“Pleasure to meet you again, Mr. MacLeod.” Murron told him.

“Are you here alone, Dr. Cross?” he asked, obviously hoping to be allowed to call her by her first name.

“Too late, MacLeod, I saw her first.” Alessandro said from behind the other man.

MacLeod turned around surprised. “Alessandro, I didn’t know you were in Paris.”

Alessandro smiled at him and handed Murron a new glass of wine. “Imagine that, I go somewhere without informing you. Robert is in the right mood now, so go get that job.”

Murron nodded and took a deep breath. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” both men called after her.

The moment Murron was out of sight, MacLeod turned to Methos and started his predictable rant. “What are you doing here? What have you been up to? And how do you know her?”

“I’ve been invited, noting in particular and none of your business.” Methos replied calmly.

MacLeod sighed. “Listen, I know you want to be left alone, and I’ve respected that, but would it kill you to write an e-mail now and then?”

“Stop playing mother-hen, MacLeod, it’s annoying. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. As you saw when you came to visit, remember? Besides, if I want you to know what I’m doing, I’ll let you know.” Methos said.

“I’m just worried.” Mac replied defensively.

“Don’t be. I’m big boy.” Methos assured him.

Just then Murron came back, trying to keep the grin on her face under control.

“I take it your little chat went well?” Methos asked with a gently smile.

Murron nodded excited. “It did, he wants me to become part of the staff for the Near East studies. Now he only has to remember that tomorrow and tell the right people.”

“He will, Robert is a lot of things but he always keeps his word.” Methos stated.

Murron hugged him and Methos had to suppress a laugh at MacLeod’s expression. Was he really jealous just because for once the girl wasn’t swooning at his feet, and didn’t need his help?

Murron and Methos left the party shortly after midnight. Methos could tell that she was lasted and just a tiny bit drunk. She’s earned herself a few celebratory drinks, as far as he was concerned.

“You don’t have to walk me home.” Murron muttered, leaning into his shoulder.

“Of course not, we’ll take my car.” Methos told her and pointed to his nice new Citroen C3. Small and handy, just the way he liked his cars.

Murron smiled and patted the dark grey car. “Cute, that one. But I know you’re just hoping to get luck with me, but I’m not that drunk.”

Methos rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, your virtue is safe with me. It’s MacLeod you have to look out for.”

“What? Why?” Murron asked surprised.

“He’s used to women drooling all over him and since you didn’t give him a second glance he wants to rectify that by charming your socks off.” Methos explained.

“Not fucking likely.” Murron informed him.

“That’s good to know.” Methos smiled and held the passenger door open for her.

“What a gentleman.” Murron returned the smile and got in.

Methos inclined his head. “Just don’t tell anyone.”

Murron had a room in a nice out-of-the-way hotel that was situated in a good neighborhood of Paris. There was even a parking space right in front of it.

“Nice, are you paying for that yourself?” Methos asked when he led her to the front door.

“No, every speaker at the conference was allowed to pick their own hotel and they pay for it. It’s surprisingly cheap, considering the location. But I really like it.” Murron replied.

“Yes, I was thinking the same thing.” Methos muttered.

Murron leaned against the front door. “Why don’t you come in?”

Methos raised an eyebrow. “I thought I wasn’t going to get lucky tonight.”

Murron shrugged. “I changed my mind. Come on, before I change it again.”

Murron’s room was at the top floor and there was no elevator. Now he understood why it was relatively cheap, considering its location. Methos wasn’t a fan of stairs but Murron was worth it, he decided. Five floors later they arrived at the door and suddenly she seemed nervous.

“We don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to.” He told her.

“No, I want to, it’s just…I’ve never taken a guy t my room before even the first date. At least not since college.” Murron chuckled nervously. “Pretty sad, isn’t it?”

Methos smiled and took her face into his hands and gently kissed her. “Better?” he asked.

Murron nodded. “Yeah,” she opened the door and let him in. They undressed wordlessly and then stood there. It was not awkward exactly, but it was getting there.

“Ah, I don’t have any…” Murron started.

“Don’t worry,” Methos interrupted her. “I can’t leave you with anything.”

“Oh, and I’m supposed to take your word for it? That’s convenient.” Murron pointed out.

Methos laughed. “Yeah, not my best line. Give me a moment.” He quickly searched the hidden pockets of his coat. He thought he still had, ah, there they were. He pulled out a couple of condoms and presented them to Murron with a flourish.

Alessandro was a rather well grown boy, Murron was happy to see when she put the rubber on him. Then she laid on the bed and he joined her. They did some foreplay and Murron enjoyed it quite a bit, but she was also impatient, which she blamed on the alcohol.

She grabbed him rather roughly, making him gasp and chuckle, and guided him into her. And he felt good, especially when he started moving.

“This okay?” Alessandro asked when he started to speed up.

Murron nodded and kissed him. Right now it felt so good that he could do anything with her and to her. She was just sober enough to not tell him outright.

He kept thrusting into her at a quick, steady pace and Murron wrapped her legs around his waist. “God, this feels good.” She panted.

Alessandro smiled down at her. “Oh, I haven’t even started yet.”

Insistent knocking woke them hours later. Murron de-tangled herself from Alessandro and stumbled to the door. She could barely walk, the things that man could do in bed, and for how long he could do them.

When she opened the door she found two stern looking men standing there.

“Dr. Murron Cross?” One of them asked.

“Yes,” she replied, tying her robe closed. They looked like cops, that couldn’t be good.

“Do you know a Dr. Everett Bauer?” the second man asked.

“Yes, I do. Why?” Murron wanted to know. If Bauer was involved then it was probably worse than bad.

“When was the last time you saw him?” the first one asked instead of answering

“Ah, yesterday, no the day before, at a historical conference.” Murron replied.

“What’s going on?” Alessandro wanted to know from behind her. Murron was glad that he was there. She did not like the way the two men were looking at her.

“Who are you?” the second man inquired.

“Alessandro Letta, and you are?” Alessandro asked back, not in the least bit intimidated.

“Police, Monsieur. We have a few questions for Dr. Cross, if you don’t mind.” The second man told him.

“Oh, no, I don’t mind.” Alessandro smiled at them and put a calming hand on Murron’s shoulder. “Go right ahead.”

The cops didn’t like it but Alessandro wasn’t budging and they had to live with that. But they finally introduced themselves. Inspectors LeMonde and DeVille.

Reluctantly, Murron let them into her room. She didn’t want them in there but she also didn’t want to talk to them in the corridor or worse at the precinct or whatever it was called in France.

“You were asking about Bauer. What’s going on?” Murron wanted to know before the cops could even start.

“He was found dead a couple of hours ago, murdered. And we know you were arguing with him only hours before his death.” DeVille told her.

“It wasn’t an argument. Bauer was his usual rude self and I told him to get lost.” Murron explained annoyed.

“Really? What were you talking about? That made you tell him to get lost?” LeMonde wanted to know.

Murron sighed. “We were applying for the same position at the Museé Nationale. He asked me to withdraw my application so his chances would be better to get the position. I refused.”

“And that was the last time you saw him?” DeVille asked.

“Yes, though I was surprised he didn’t show up at Mr. Queen’s party last night. That would have been a very good opportunity for him to sweet talk himself into the job.” Murron told them.

“Did you?” LeMonde wanted to know.

Murron shrugged. “Of course, why shouldn’t I? Everyone else did. That’s how it works.”

“I see, well, thank you for your time, Dr. Cross, we’ll be in touch.” DeVille said and they let themselves out.

Murron followed and looked after them until they had disappeared down the stairs. “Do they think I did it?” she asked absentminded.

“Yes, they do.” Alessandro replied and led her back inside her room. “But since you have an alibi, yours truly, they’ll actually have to earn their salary and do some honest police work.”

“You sound very sure.” Murron muttered.

“I am. They won’t be coming after you.” Alessandro assured her.

For the next two days, Murron sat like on needles. She didn’t hear from the Museé Nationale or the police and soon enough she had convinced herself that that couldn’t mean anything good.

“I need to get out of here.” She announced around noon. “I’m going crazy here.”

“Okay, I know a good place to get some food.” Alessandro said. She had asked him to stay after the police had left and he had taken her near crazy behavior calmly. It annoyed her but it also gave her something to hold on to.

“I’m not hungry.” Murron muttered but grabbed her light jacket.

“But I am. It’s not far away, It will be a nice stroll.” Alessandro pointed out.

They were walking down the street when Methos saw a car turning into their street. He was not sure what it was but something about it made him turn towards it and he saw the gun coming out the driver’s window.

Without thought he grabbed Murron and dragged her to the ground just as the first bullet ripped through the window they had been passing by.

The shooter emptied an entire clip at them before driving off. Whoever he was he was not a good shooter. Several windows had been shot out, but he had not hit anyone.

“Was he shooting at us?” Murron wanted to know as they got back to their feet.

They hadn’t been alone on the walkway but Methos thought it a good bet that he had been shooting at them. “Maybe,” he said. In the distance he could her the police sirens. So much for a nice and quiet walk and lunch.

The inspectors were back and this time the grilled them separately. There was not much thy could tell them though. Only that a man in a car had shot at them. But they didn’t know why. DeVille and LaMonde looked highly skeptical but had to let them go eventually.

“Why would anyone shoot at us?” Murron asked on their way back to her hotel It would be room service for them today. Or maybe Joe could drop something off for them. At least it would taste better.

“Well, I have several people who would like to see me dead, but thy wouldn’t use guns and they sure as hell wouldn’t go after me in public. Which leaves you.” Methos told her.

“Me?” Murron looked surprised. “Why would anyone want to kill me?”

Methos shrugged. “I don’t know. Why would anyone kill Everett Bauer?”

Alessandro’s question stunned her. Was there really a connection? And who would kill Bauer? He was an asshole, but not worth killing.

“You think this is about the job.” She realized.

Alessandro shrugged. “It’s what you two have in common here. I’ll make some calls. See if I can find out who else is on the shortlist. Maybe something will click.”

“Okay,” Murron nodded. “Okay, I think I’ll lie down for a bit now.”

“After you have eaten something.” Alessandro stopped her. “I called Joe to bring something over. You wouldn’t want to disappoint him, now would you?”

Murron gave him a dirty look. “I don’t even know the man.”

“You’ll love him.” Alessandro smiled at her. “And he has the best burgers in all of France.”

“You’re mean, you know that?” Murron muttered under her breath.

Alessandro shrugged. “It’s been mentioned.”

After eating, Murron laid down and Methos and Joe went to work. The old Watcher had invited himself along when he got the whole story out of them. MacLeod was not in any trouble for the moment so he had the time and needed something to do.

“Well, that’s not too long a list.” Joe said when he read through the names of the applicants. “But I don’t get it, the job is good, sure, but not that good.”

Methos shrugged. “It’s just a theory, Joe. And we have to start somewhere.”

There were twenty-six names, not counting Murron and the late Bauer. They split the list and hit the phone.

Most of them were fine but one had died after falling down a flight of stairs and another one had barely survived a suspicious car accident a few days ago.

“Okay, I’ll admit it, it’s suspicious but the other twenty-four didn’t have anything weird to report.” Joe said.

“Maybe he hasn’t gotten them yet, or one of them is the killer. Wait a second.” Methos muttered. “Avalle, Bauer, Casper, Cross. He’s doing this alphabetically.”

Joe didn’t look convinced. “But he missed one and four. That doesn’t make sense.”

“No, It doesn’t. Maybe he’s just not very good at killing. Or maybe there’s something we’re missing.” Methos sighed.

The answer lay with the other applicants for the position at the Museè Nationale, Methos was sure of it. Twenty-four men and women, all with the same motive. The two survivors Methos excluded for the moment, whoever was trying to kill off the competition would not put himself or herself at risk. Not even to throw suspicion off. It was most likely a man, statistic alone said so. He would not exclude the remaining five women on the list but his gut said a guy was behind this.

“Background checks on twenty-four people?” Joe shook his head. “Do you know how long that will take?”

“As long as it takes, Joe. Maybe I get lucky and the first one is the right one.” Methos replied.

“And maybe I’ll marry Angelina Jolie tomorrow.” Joe said but he didn’t get up to leave. “Do we split the list again?”

Methos merely raised an eyebrow at him.

“What? I kind of like your new girlfriend. She seems to be good for you.” Joe told him with a big grin. “Now give me that list.”

“Sure, but really, Joe, you marry Angelina Jolie and don’t invite me.” Methos dead-panned.

Joe threw some crumpled paper at him with a chuckle.

Methos had a very good computer system set up at his home, but he could access it from pretty much everywhere from his laptop. One he had come up with himself and was unique in the world, and one of the most sophisticated ones. It allowed him to run several search routines while also getting all the official information as well as a lot of unofficial information in mails of the cops.

Joe was impressed had a little worried. Who knew what the Old Man could get up to if he got into the mood. But he could not deny that it produced an awful lot of data in a very short time.

Now they only had to sift through that pile of data and find one crazy killer.

“God, I feel stupid.” Joe muttered under his breath.

“Why?” Methos asked absentminded.

“Because all this people are a lot smarter than me.” Joe pointed out.

“That doesn’t mean you’re stupid, Joe.” Methos said.

“Yeah, right, it just feels like it.” Joe sighed. “I don’t think this one is a candidate, he’s in a wheelchair.”

“Yeah, makes it very unlikely that he pushed anyone down the stairs.” Methos agreed. “I have two very likely and three maybe’s. And five we can rule out.”

Joe shook his head and went to the next file. He wasn’t big on computer but he had surprisingly little problems with tables. “What if two or three are working together?”

“And then share the job?” Methos smiled. “No, this is a one-man show, a very determined one.”

Over the next few hours they dwindled down the list to eleven. Murron had been pissed when she learned they had researched the other applicants without telling her. Some of them were her friends from her university days.

Alessandro didn’t seem to understand why she was angry about that. Murron had needed to rest and he and Joe had used the time to get some of the work done.

“That’s not the point.” Murron said when he told her that. “You can’t just dig into other people’s lives. Besides, I should have been included in this, if you have to do it.”

“You are. Here, tell me what you think of these.” Alessandro gave her Joe’s tablet with the files of the remaining suspects. Joe had left about half an hour ago to open up his bar but had promised to be back in the morning.

With a sigh Murron took the device and started to look through the data. “Where did you get all this information from?” she wanted to know.

Alessandro smiled at her. “It’s better if you don’t know.”

“Right.” Murron muttered and went back to the data. After about half an hour she looked up at Alessandro and handed him the tablet. “Timothy Reed, the last thing I heard about him was that he had been committed to a closed mental ward for trying to kill his own mother.”

“And he got released six months ago because he had sleazy slime ball for a lawyer.” Alessandro nodded. “Yes, he’s one of my prime candidates too, but we still need to check out the others.”

“I know, but he couldn’t really think he’d get a job like this five minutes after he got out of the loony bin.” Murron shook her head.

“Well, he’s crazy, obviously. So who knows what he’s thinking?” Alessandro pointed out. “And there is one other thing I wanted to talk to you about.”

“What?” Murron asked curious. Alessandro sounded hesitant, not something she was used to with him.

“I don’t think staying in this hotel is a good idea, or any hotel, for that matter. You can be found too easily that way. You should stay with me, in my house. It has way better security than this place. Or with Joe, Mac and I fixed his place up a few years ago, if you prefer.” Alessandro told her calmly.

Murron raised her eyebrows. “Are you asking me to move in with you?”

Alessandro shrugged. “Guess I do. Or with Joe.”

He was right, of course, if no one knew where she was, no one could kill her. She had to tell the police where she would be staying, but otherwise no one needed to know. If the Museè Nationale had something to tell he they would call her phone. Hopefully, the killer didn’t know how to trace those.

When Murron saw the house Alessandro lived in she was surprised. “You live alone in there?”

Alessandro smiled at her. “I like my space and I like my privacy. What were you expecting that I live in?”

Murron shrugged. “I don’t know. A messy apartment on the top of a seedy building with no elevator.”

“Sorry to disappoint you. It’s not messy, has only two floors but no elevator. You got that part right.” Alessandro told her and led her inside.

It really was not messy, cluttered a bit maybe, with books mostly but also pieces of art, ancient and modern both. Murron picked two of the books up. The first one was about computer programming, the other about petroglyphs in Australia. Very…interesting.

“Come on, let me show you where everything is.” Alessandro said.

It was a nice house, with kitchen, dining and living room on the ground floor. Two bedrooms, bathroom and study upstairs. There was also a bae room where he worked-out. For now she moved into the second bedroom, so she could have her own space.

The police was not happy about her move but could do nothing against it and Murron did feel better, safer, there.

“What about Timothy Reed? Are we going to tell the cops with our information?” Murron asked over dinner.

“No, if we give it to them they will not take it seriously because we’re just amateurs and they will be insulted because we’re trying to do their job. The police will get an anonymous tip and then we hope the French cops are halfway competent.” Alessandro explained.

“Wow, you really have confidence in them.” Murron said smiling.

Alessandro shrugged. “Just realistic. I also sent a little warning to the other applicants that they should be careful. Some will dismiss it but some will not and that will hopefully save their lives.”

“Why should they listen to you?” Murron wanted to know but Alessandro smiled at her. “Oh, no. You pretended to be the police. God, Alessandro, one day that will land you in so much trouble.”

“I’m very good at getting out of trouble, Murron. Don’t worry.” Alessandro assured her.

Murron was browsing Alessandro’s library a few days later when the Museè Nationale called her. It was not the call she had hoped for.

“Bad news!” Alessandro asked when he saw her face.

“Yes and no, I guess. They informed me that they thought it the most prudent course of action to postpone the decision of who gets the position in light of recent events.” Murron told him.

“Current events?” Alessandro raised an eyebrow. “That’s one way to put it.”

“There were three more attacks on applicants of the job, no deaths though, thank God. But they won’t make a decision until the police has captured the person or person responsible.” Murron shrugged. “I guess, I should have expected that.”

Alessandro grinned. “So they finally wised up. Let me guess, they have no suspects yet. And don’t want to hire the wrong guy accidentally.”

“I guess so, not that they told me.” Murron shrugged. “but how long will that take? I can’t stay here forever. I mean, it’s a great place, but I’m starting to get claustrophobic.”

“Well, we let them know about Reed. It’s up to them what they make of it.” Alessandro said.

“God, how can you be so calm?” Murron wanted to know. “Why don’t we tell them what we know? Not anonymously, but in person?”

“And how do we explain to them that we knew about Reed for days but did not come forward sooner?” Alessandro asked. “Come on, let’s have a look at the police files. Might be fun to read.”

“Why?”

“Because I have a feeling that Reed continued with his alphabetical order, which makes his next victim very predictable.” Alessandro explained.

The police had in fact figured it out. Everyone on the list got a patrol car parked outside their respected houses and apartments. But they couldn’t do that indefinitely. And though they still didn’t name Reed as their suspect, it was in the subtext of the reports. But what they were missing was hard proof.

Still, Murron breathed a sigh of relief. It couldn’t be long now.

And only two days later the museum invited all the surviving applicants to a brunch, including Reed.

“Are they out of their minds or is this the cops’ idea?” Murron wanted to know. “Why would anyone attend?”

“Hopefully the later. Can you bring someone along? I make a great shield.” Alessandro offered. “And I’m sure the cops have their own people their too.”

Murron smiled at him gratefully. “We can bring someone along. Thank you.”

They arrived a bit early and could watch the police get into position. Of course, they were pretending to be waiters and such, but really, they couldn’t be more obvious if they had police tattooed on their foreheads. Only Inspector Le Monde got to pretend he was with the Museé Nationale.

“Got your sight on someone in particular?” Methos asked innocently.

“I’m not at liberty to say, Monsieur.” LeMonde replied coldly. “But stay close to your girlfriend.”

“I’m not his girlfriend.” Murron protested. “We’re just friends.”

LeMonde looked clearly skeptical but Methos only shrugged. I that was what made Murron happy, he had no problem with the label she put on them. He had had weirder relationships than this, way weirder.

They took their seats and soon the others arrived. Most looked nervous, some like they wanted to boot, but this was an important job, they didn’t want to look like cowards in front of the people making the decisions. A handful pretended to be relaxed but didn’t pull it off very well. A couple did look rally calm, they were the ones that had stayed longest on Methos’ list before Reed came to the forefront. They had the personalities for it.

But when Reed entered no one gave him a second look. “Interesting. Looks like we’re the only one who think Reed is a dangerous loony, aside from the cops.” Methos whispered.

“Many people have mental problems now and then. Most are not ever violent.” Murron pointed out.

Methos nodded. “Unfortunately, that goes not for all of them.”

Reed looked confident as he took his seat.

“He looks not as I had expected.” Murron muttered.

“They never do.” Methos whispered back.

Reed did not talk to anybody. He just sat at his table, ignoring everyone else. The police pretending to be waiters were moving in a pattern Methos knew well enough. There was always at least one of them near to Reed. They were hoping he would snap and then they could finally arrest him.

Methos had to admit that he was curious as to how this would all play out. Maybe Reed would be perfectly nice and polite and not do anything.

If the police screwed this up he would have to deal with Reed himself, in a permanent way.

When everyone had finally taken their seats, Dr. Francis Valls, Director of the Museé Nationale, walked up to the podium at the far end of the room for a little speech. LeMond followed him like the good little aide he pretended to be.

“Thank you all for coming on such short notice.” Valls started. “I know that these are trying times for you all. But the police assures me that they are doing everything in their power to find the one responsible for the injuries and even deaths of our esteemed colleagues. And I also wanted to assure you, that all of you are still being considered for the open position. But we will not make the final decision until further notice.” Valls continued his speech along these lines but Methos stopped listening. He was watching the other applicants, especially Reed.

Several looked read to withdraw their applications right at this spot, just to get out of this. No job was worth someone’s life.

Reed on the other hand looked victorious and did not bother to hide it. He really was delusional enough to believe he would get the job, not realizing that his mental history alone disqualified him for the job.

“What do they hope he will do?” Murron asked in a whisper. There were four other people sitting at their table and they really didn’t need to hear this.

“I’m pretty sure LeMonde will talk to him later, telling him some bullshit story to make him come with him and then provoke him to lose control. Be ready to dive for cover.” Methos whispered back.

“He wouldn’t be stupid enough to bring a gun in here, would he?” Murron wanted to know.

Methos shrugged lightly. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

The soup was being brought in when LeMone went over to Reed, just like Mehtos had predicted. They talked for a few minutes and Reed started to look confused before he became visible furious. Whatever LeMonde was saying seemed to have the desired effect. Reed sprang p and pulled out a hand gun. Panicked cries sprang up around the room and most dived under their tables.

LeMonde had probably hoped for that to happen in another room, but he was reacting quickly and grappled with Reed who managed to squeeze off a couple of un-aimed shots. The first hit a young women in the shoulder two tables down. The second would have hit Murron had Methos not pushed her away and down. He took the bulled into his arm.

“I told you to be ready.” He hissed through the pain. It was not a deadly wound, he could already fell it heal, he just had to make sure no one saw anything. Not hard in the current situation. People were only looking to themselves. A natural reaction, Methos was glad for.

LeMonde finally wrestled the gun from Reed and a couple of other cops kept him down and cuffed him.

“Let go of me!” Reed shouted. “Let go of me! This job is mine! Mine! Do you here? No one will take it from me!”

The cops dragged him out and Valls returned quite shaken to the podium to calm everyone down. It wasn’t easy. A couple of medics took care of the young woman and the others wanted to leave quickly, but the cops kept them there to take their statements. That did not go down very well either. It was hours before they were finally allowed to leave. All in all not the best evening.

“He confessed.” Murron read in the newspaper the next day. “That was fast.”

Methos shrugged. “He thinks he’s in the right, why shouldn’t he own it? He’s not quite right in his head, after all.”

“As long as he goes to prison and stays there.” Murron muttered. “Now, all I have to do is wait for the museum to make a decision.”

“Ah, the suspense.” Methos smiled at her. “Do you want me to distract you?”

“Does your distraction include a lot of panting and nudity?” Murron asked smiling expectantly.

“Most definitely.” Methos replied and playfully grabbed her waist and made good on his words.

End


End file.
